The Love Affair of an English Lord (28 page)

Of which he knew absolutely nothing. He had never been wildly in love before. He had never been so absolutely besotted with a young woman to the point that he would cheerfully endure a public tongue-lashing, that he would go down on his knees to plead for her. And he had never become romantically involved with a Boscastle princess. Heaven knew what that entailed.

Yes, he had known there would be repercussions, consequences to becoming her lover. He was prepared to face them. He had just rather conveniently pushed the thought to the back of his mind. It was now time to polish off all his noble pretensions and resume his former life. He could no longer climb into Chloe's bedroom or whisk her away from balls to love her senseless.

It was going to be harder than he'd realized.

For one thing, he was not willing to relinquish her for even one day.

For another, he did not want to give her family a chance to investigate his behavior, to decide he was not a desirable match for her. Chloe could well be carrying his child. He wanted to pamper and protect her, to start life over with her as his wife.

Simply put, his resolve had found a new challenge, and he could only hope he was as successful at playing a suitor as he had been a ghost.

 

Chloe felt so relieved to have found Dominic safe that she did not even demur as her aunt hustled her and Pamela out of the gallery. Her last wistful glance at her lover was of his helping Finley lay Baron Bones on the Turkey carpet. Who but a man who'd been believed dead would form a friendship with the remains of another who had died in such a horrible manner?

It was a rather poignant and ridiculous sight, Dominic respectfully placing the skeleton in a peaceful pose, then looking up to wink at her. She and Pamela had started to giggle, a little irreverently, which seemed to give Aunt Gwendolyn the impression they'd become hysterical at the sight of the cloaked skeleton.

“What a dreadful thing to see on a Sunday morning!” the woman exclaimed. “In my day, a young lady would never have been exposed to such horror.”

Chloe and Pamela grinned at each other as they were shepherded down the stairs. Chloe could have pointed out that her aunt had dared to confront a very troublesome ghost and had thought nothing of it. That Boscastle streak of stubborn bravery apparently ran through everyone in the family, male and female, young and old.

“Thank you, Aunt Gwendolyn,” she said on impulse as they reached the carriage waiting outside. All of a sudden Chloe realized how lovely, how enchanting Dominic's estate appeared when viewed in the sunlight. The gardens offered a variety of hidden arbors and splashing fountains, shady walkways and even a maze in which children could play endless games.

“Thank me for what?” Aunt Gwendolyn asked suspiciously as she straightened her bonnet.

“For your wonderful hospitality, for allowing me to stay at your house, for giving me the chance to reform myself.”

Aunt Gwendolyn harrumphed. “Stop it, Chloe. I am not the fool you and your uncle assume me to be. You are no more reformed than that poor devil Stratfield.”

“Are you angry at me, Aunt Gwendolyn?” Chloe asked innocently.

Aunt Gwendolyn scowled. “I shall leave anger to your brothers, who will probably never speak to me again after they learn about what has happened in my house.”

Pamela glanced at Chloe in protective sympathy. “Do we really have to tell them anything?”

“I do not see how we can avoid the inevitable,” her mother replied.

Chloe did not see how either, although she racked her brain during the short ride home. Naturally the whole world would soon know that Dominic was not dead. His story would become a sensation in London, and the part she had played would be the making of another scandal.

Yes, she realized that she would have to face the inevitable sooner or later, but she did not expect to find the inevitable waiting for her in the parlor, in the intimidating form of her older brother Heath.

She should have guessed one of her male siblings had arrived by the presence of every maid in the house pretending to tidy the parlor while he sat perusing an outdated newspaper. From an objective point of view, Chloe could see the attraction. He was an arresting figure, well muscled, elegant, and unfailingly polite. His chiseled features and heavily lashed blue eyes melted female hearts on a regular basis.

But to Chloe he was simply Heath, the most enigmatic member of the family, and, presumably, her judge and jury. And there he sat, as silently awe-inspiring, as immovable and inscrutable as the Sphinx at Giza.

“Chloe.” He laid down his paper and rose from his chair to regard her, hands clasped behind his back.

Chloe's heart began to thunder. Did he know? How
much
did he know? Was he angry? How angry? Those deep blue eyes of his never revealed anything unless he allowed it. His superior officer had once said one could apply hot coals to the soles of Heath's feet and his expression would not change, which reminded Chloe he had been tortured while he was briefly imprisoned by the French.

“This is a surprise, Heath.”

“Yes. Surprises seem to be in the air lately, don't they?” He turned, cast a fleeting smile at the bevy of maids and said, “I do appreciate your diligence, but would you please return at another time? I should like some privacy with Lady Chloe.”

Chloe felt a chill as the room emptied, the maids crestfallen but obedient. “Surprises?” she said, determined not to let him undo her.

“I know, Chloe.”

“You know . . .”

He motioned her to the sofa, his voice even, his manner so composed she wanted to hit him with a bookend. “Tell me how it happened.”

“How did what happen?”

He smiled faintly. “Did I mention that I just spent a very enjoyable—and enlightening, if short—meeting with an old friend of mine? Lord Wolverton. I believe you have met.”

“I believe he is fond of Dominic.”

His smile widened. “Yes. Aren't we all? Our dear resurrected Dominic. So, tell me, how did it happen?” He settled back in his chair. “Sit down, Chloe. You look quite uncomfortable standing there. Sit down and explain the situation to me.”

She steeled herself. “I came to the country. I fell in love with a viscount, and I expect we shall be married if Grayson does not banish me again or frighten him away. What else is there to know?”

“Oh, there's his sneaking in and out of my sister's room for a start. Your disappearing from a ball with a mysterious masked guest. Consorting with”—Heath threw up his hands in exasperation—“with a ghost.”

“Well,” Chloe said. This was the most volatile display Heath had shown anyone in ages. Perhaps in his entire life. Probably that, more than anything, was what had her worried. “It all sounds so much worse than it actually—”

“How did you manage it, Chloe?” Heath asked, lifting a dark brow. “I am truly amazed at your ability to seek out the most compromising situations imaginable. Do you stay awake at night plotting trouble?”

“How insulting.”

“I am serious, Chloe.”

“When are you not?”

“How on earth did you manage to ruin yourself so completely in such a short time?”

She flung herself down in a chair, resigned to her fate. “Fine. I shall tell all. My original sin was to leave my window open for Devon to climb in.”

“And?”

“And? Dominic climbed in instead.”

“And?”

“I felt sorry for him?”

“You felt sorry for him,” Heath repeated slowly. “Is that all there is to it?”

“Hmm. There might have been a little more.”

“A little more?” Heath contemplated a spot on the ceiling. “Heaven help me. Now I know what Grayson was complaining about before he got married. This family is careening down the road to ruin. You, Devon, and who can guess what Drake is up to? How much more, Chloe? To what extent have you become involved with Stratfield?”

“I'm not entirely sure what you mean.”

“I'm entirely sure you do.”

“I really don't.”

“Perhaps the journey back to London will refresh your memory.”

“London? But why? Aunt Gwendolyn could use my company here what with her fund-raising and— I have no new clothes.” She had almost run out of excuses. “The Season will almost be over before I have a decent wardrobe made.”

“Life as you have known it may well be over, my dear,” Heath said unsympathetically.

“What are you suggesting in that ghastly tone of voice?”

“Your stay in Chistlebury was meant to be a retreat from temptation.”

Chloe watched as Ares nosed open the door and stared up at her, wagging his tail for a walk. “And so it was. Buried in Chistlebury. That's what my friends thought.”

“For God's sake, Chloe.”

“I don't think I like the way you said that, Heath.”

He leaned forward to watch the hound waddle into the room and collapse at Chloe's feet. “I was the neutral vote when your exile was decided. I believed you were serious about reform.”

“I was. Honestly, Heath, none of this was my fault.”

“Was it Stratfield's fault? Should I call him out? Friend or not, if he has wronged you, he shall pay.”

Chloe went down on her knees to draw Ares to her.

She wondered if Dominic would mind eloping to avoid facing her family. He might not appreciate the excitement so soon after his own drama, but then he had no idea how excruciating it was to be the subject of a Boscastle Inquisition.

“I should like at least another week here, Heath, to say my farewells to the friends I have made.”

“No,” he said, his voice unequivocable.

She stared at him. “Why not?”

“Because in a week you'll have gotten yourself into another scandal.”

“I don't see how.”

“I don't either; it doesn't seem possible, but the fact is that you will.” He paused, frowning down at the floor. “That dog is enormous, Chloe. Someone needs to put him on a slimming regime and give him regular exercise.”

“I have to pack my things,” she murmured.

“Your belongings are in the process of being packed as we speak. The carriage will come for us tomorrow.”

She stood up, her hands on her hips. “I cannot leave Dominic without telling him where I'm going.”

Heath remained unmoved. “Dominic is a capable man and may visit you, in a proper manner, whenever he desires. If he wants to find you, he will do so. I shall inform him of our decision.”

“Did Adrian explain to you that Dominic risked his life to destroy the man who killed Brandon and Samuel? Doesn't his bravery count for anything at all?”

“I would have helped him. Every one of us would have helped him. He did not have to play the hero alone.”

“Are you saying that the only way he may see me is by asking your permission?”

“Precisely,” Heath said. “If he will not submit to the rules of Society, he will at least submit to our family wishes.”

Chloe groaned inwardly at the thought of Dominic submitting to anything. “For your information he's already asked me to marry him, and I've accepted without any reservations.”

Heath leaned back in his chair, his long frame relaxed. “How nice for you, Chloe. Now let us give Dominic the chance to impress the rest of your family and see whether
we
shall accept him.” He smiled. “Without any reservations.”

 

Chloe spent her last night in Chistlebury in her empty dressing closet, gazing out the window at Dominic's estate. The house was brightly lit in celebration. Guests had been coming and going all day, some in expensive carriages, others on horseback. She wondered whether his past lover Lady Turleigh had been one of the recent arrivals, and how Dominic would react if she appeared at his door, contrite and begging his understanding.

Chloe hoped the woman would take one look at Baron Bones and run screaming into the woods.

A clod of dirt hit the window.

Startled, she leaned over the sill and looked outside, whispering hopefully, “Dominic?”

The man standing below dropped the handful of dirt he had been about to pitch. “No. It's Justin.”

“Justin?” She peered down at the fair-haired figure lurking under the tree. “What on earth are you doing here? How did you get past Heath's guard?”

“One of the servants felt sorry for me and sneaked me around the garden.” He stepped into the moonlight. “Pamela told me you were leaving in the morning, Chloe. I wanted to say that I'm sorry for everything.”

She sighed. He was rather sweet in his own annoying way. “I'm sorry, too, Justin.”

He looked unsure of what to say next. “What are you going to do in London?”

“Be miserable and repent for all my sins.”

“I'd ask you to marry me, but my parents have another match in mind.”

“Oh.” Chloe hoped she sounded disappointed. She saw no reason to tell him she wouldn't accept his reluctant proposal if he offered it to her on a silver platter. “I suppose we'll both recover over time.” He appeared so relieved to be excused that easily that she ached to laugh out loud.

“I suppose we will. In a few years, perhaps.”

A few minutes seemed more likely.

He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of Dominic's estate, lowering his voice. “You'd wonder if it was the Lord who'd come back to life for all the people visiting Stratfield.” He hesitated. “I think he ought to marry you.”

“I think so, too, if my awful family doesn't interfere.”

Another voice joined the conversation, deep, cultured, amused. “Your awful family is going to interfere again, I'm afraid. Lord St. John, I am Chloe's brother. Would you mind removing yourself from the premises immediately?”

Justin flushed a deep red. “Of course, my lord. I only wanted to say good-bye. I did not mean any disrespect to your family. I—”